


Taken (2P!France x Reader)

by eroticincubi



Series: Francis and Me [3]
Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Drama, F/M, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eroticincubi/pseuds/eroticincubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meant nothing to him so why would he even bother saving you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken (2P!France x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Just making a note that this fic contains lots, and **lots** of derogatory images/remarks toward those of latino descent. Mostly having to do to them being in gangs or clicks as well as their manner of speaking including the "Spanglish" or the mixing of English and Spanish. And btw the word **_"beaner"_** is a very, very, VERY bad racial slur to latino people. Thank you.
> 
> I don't own you, Francis Bonnefoy, Matthew Williams or any other characters from Hetalia. 
> 
> Kaya Jones belongs to silver-kitsuneneko 
> 
> I only own the grammar/spelling mistakes.

You were gagged, blindfolded and your arms were bound behind your back yet it didn’t stop the tears from flowing down your face. You whimper and tremble from your sitting position as your teeth bites over the clothed gag wrapped around the lower half of your face. All you wanted to do today was the grocery shopping, you never expected any of this to happen and yet all you could do was think about your mom and how lonely she was going to be because you knew that you weren’t going to get out of this alive.

“It don’t gotta be this way, just tell us where he is and we’ll let you go, easy and painless.” You hear a man say to your right and you turn your head slightly into his direction, “Got something to say chiquita?”

You mumble a response between your gag and then you feel someone roughly removing it. Licking your lips you tilt your head up slightly and although you can’t see the man who addressed you, you can smell his horrible breath fanning your face, “I told you, I don’t know where he is and even if I did I still wouldn’t tell you jack shit.”

The impact of the close fist on your jaw was instantaneous. You feel your teeth breaking the skin from inside your mouth and warm coppery blood floods over your tongue, “You look like a sweet girl and sweet girls shouldn’t talk like that, it’s fucking rude.”

“Bite me.” You snarl then you feel the gag return to your mouth as well as the man’s mouth speaking in an intimate whisper against your jaw, “Oh we plan to, we’re gonna bite you, and burn you and _fuck_ you until you tell us where the Frenchman is. You’re _our_ puta **[1]** now, we can do what we want wit-choo.”

And just how did you end up here? Let’s go back to the beginning.

You were shopping at Gelson’s **[2]** getting things for the dinner you were planning to make. Matthew told you his father’s favorite dish and that was how you wanted to show him your gratitude, through your cooking. Your mom and your aunt decided to move out of state to live with some other relatives, which left you pretty much alone and without a place to stay. Mr. Bonnefoy however had asked you to move in with him and his son, that way you didn’t have to uproot yourself and you could still go to school. You wanted to thank him for his kindness and even though he hardly ever spoke to you, unless necessary, he never mistreated you either.

You had also purchased ingredients for the chocolate mousse you were also going to make for dessert; it was your father’s recipe and a personal favorite of yours. You smile thinking about your employer’s reaction the moment he finds out what you will make for him for dinner. Since the moment they first tasted your cooking, you had notice what healthy appetites they actually had and you made it your personal mission to make sure that they were always contented and full. It was also very nice to cook for someone again.

After you’ve finished making your purchases you headed to the car which was already packed for you, Gelson’s always had the best service in your opinion. Everyone was always so polite and helpful and Murray the store manager was always around in case you had a question about something. Francis was always shopping here (or at least had someone doing the shopping for him, you can’t picture him in his suit and pushing a shopping cart, can you?) and every employee knew it. At first you supposed it was because he shopped here until one day you had accosted one of the bag boys and he broke it down for you, “Everyone knows who Francis Bonnefoy is and you personally work for him. If you were to forget anything it’d be our asses and not yours. He’s one of our VIPs and we have to make sure his business stays with us.”

That made sense. In spite of you not knowing what it was that your employer did for a living. You did have some suspicions and some of them were more farfetched than the others. All you know is that money came very easily to him which then makes you think of the reason as to how he can pay you so well in keeping his house maintained.

You were just about to open the driver’s side door when you feel a pair of strong arms grab you from behind and press you tightly against a rock hard chest. You were about to scream out when you feel a cloth covering your mouth as well as a pungent though sweet scent that followed soon after which then causes you to immediately black out.

You were already blindfolded and gagged by thee time you finally came to. You couldn’t tell what time it was or what day it was either all you could hear was the murmuring sounds of two or three men around the general area of where you were sitting. Your arms were folded behind your back and were held tightly in thin nylon ropes, your ankles were bounded individually against the legs of the chair you were in as well.

Back to the present: “’Ey che-kit out the puta’s a fighter,” said one of the men, another chuckled, “Oh lookit her, what a sweet panocha **[3]** she is...”

“You think it’s fat?” you can hear the sinister smile on the second man’s face.

“Only one way to find out.” Said the first as a sudden dread fills your stomach making you feel sick and the bitterness of adrenaline floods your mouth.

“No! Stop it, please!” you muffle against your gag then you struggle against your binds once again and the tears roll freely down your face. You feel rough hands squeeze at your knees and force your legs apart. You scream out as much as the gag allows you to just as you feel a man’s full weight covering over your body and his mouth was at your neck, slobbering and licking at your skin. You feel the shuffling of hands going for the belt that kept the man’s pants up and you scream again feeling so helpless at the event that was about to take place.

“Pendejos **[4]**!” you hear another man’s voice among those laughing and jeering; the man on top of you stops.

You were sobbing and whimpering when you feel the body on top of you roughly pull off from you. The force causes a squeak to escape your lips. Thank heavens the new man came in when he did and had put a stop to what was about to happen.

“Ey Misa! Come on foo’! We’re just having a bit of fun… trying to make the lady feel welcome n’ shit…”

“Chigue su puta madre, zerrote **[5]**!”

“’Ey Misa! Why you gettin’ mad ese **[6]**?”

“Shut the fuck up and get back to your fucking post, pendejo!” snaps the man name Misa and you can hear the first two men groan with disgust until one of them speaks again.

“Always got a soft spot for pussy…”

You hear a click followed by a dead silence, “You fucking questioning me, vato **[7]**?” Misa asked menacingly, “hmm?”

“Chinge su made! Calm down Misa! Don’t get all trigger happy.”

“Fuck you pendejo! Who do you fucking think is running this fucking show?” There was a rumbling crash as some of the men shout in outrage and you hear something like gunfire coming from outside, “Cuco,” said Misa, the man who must have been in charge due to how he spoke to the other men in the room, “Go see what the fuck’s going on, and take these zerrotes with you.”

“Yah Jefe!”

You were then left in the room with Misa, you could tell that you were both the only ones left in the room apart from the ruckus going on outside the room walls. You can hear the heavy foot falls of the man walking toward you and from this close of a distance you could smell the thick sweet cologne he wore.

You hear him humming a tune but you were full of so much fright that you weren’t paying attention until he began to whisper the lyrics of the song he was singing, “ _Meet me in outer space, we could spend the night_ ,” you gasp as memories of someone you knew from a long time go came to your mind, “ _watch the earth come up, I’ve grown tired of that place, won’t you come with me? We could start again._ ” You haven’t seen him since your prom night when the two of you slow danced to “Stellar” by Incubus. The other kids around the two of you danced wildly the moment the chorus was sung but not the two of you; Stellar was always going to be your song no matter what.

You then feel hands tugging at the blindfold over your eyes and the gag was now removed from your mouth. You blink your eyes into focus and you could see the man, wearing a black pinstriped suit standing before you with his hands in his pants pockets.   

“Que paso chera **[8]**?” Misael Gomez gives you a lopsided smile, you however couldn’t believe your eyes, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Well yeah!” you say still shocked, “Misa I haven’t seen you since senior prom, what happened? I thought you had a full blown scholarship to LMU?”

“Yeah well after that one championship game I busted my knee real bad, vieja **[9]** from there I started poppin’ pain killers, started gaining weight, knee’s never been the same, then I couldn’t play anymore. School was talking about a liability or some shit like that.”

“I’m sorry.” You say genuinely, for you actually meant it, he was your friend the closest thing to a childhood sweetheart but now things were different… time had a really funny way of doing that.

“No chera,” Misa shakes his head slowly and looks at you sadly, “I’m the one that’s sorry. One of my boys said he saw the Frenchman’s maid shopping for him at the store but I never thought it’d be you.”

So that was it, this had something to do with Francis and what he does for a living. At the time you still had not confirm what exactly his line of work entails was but now that you were where you were, you had some vague idea. And especially over recent events...

“He’s not coming,” you shake your head then look up at the man, “He has no reason to,”

Just who did you think you were to even consider that Francis would look for you? Let alone _save_ you. No, now you know for sure that he wasn’t coming to rescue you. He had made it perfectly clear that you were nothing to him. You had no attachments to him, you were pretty much just the girl that he hired to clean his house and cook his meals. That was all and it wasn’t as if he was open to you anyway.

“Oh no way chera,” he walks over to you and cup your chin in his palm, his thumb grazes over your jaw line then over your lips, “any man would go to hell and back for you. Trust me.” Before you could answer he covers his eyes once more and you could now hear the running of feet.

“Misa! Pinche **[10]** Frenchman and his pandilla **[11]** are here!” Francis was here? He actually came for you? No way…

“Who the fuck are you, gringo?” you hear one of the panic stricken men say as you hear a pair of doors burst open. You then hear the sound of running feet heading into your direction. “Your worst nightmare motherfucker!” said one of the voices, a young male who sounded an awful lot like… Was that—? No it couldn’t be!

You can hear a combination of grunts and shouts along with the impacting sounds of flesh colliding with metal as well as the breaking of bones and a horrible cracking like someone stepping on broken glass. You scream though your gag and slightly jump in your chair as you hear the explosive pop of guns firing until you hear another dull thwack then a sound from another man as a body flies past to your left side. Once it was over the room was silent and the only sound you could hear was the sound of your soft shivering breath as you waited anxiously for someone to undo your binds if at all.

“__________! Shit what the fuck did these beaners do to you?” you hear a young man’s voice say to your right.

“M-Matt?” you stammer when you feel a man’s hand cupping your chin and it lifts your face up, his fingers reek of tobacco.

“They have treated you badly, mon cher.” You hear Francis’s gruff murmur while he gently removes the blindfold off your eyes.

Your vision was blurred from being covered again. You blinked several times until finally your eyes focused and you could clearly see Matthew on your right, (M/RC) on your left and Francis in the middle. Francis glances down at your lap and he could see the bruises on your knees, you saw the manner of how he raises his eyebrows. Meanwhile Matt and M/RC free you from your binds and you were rubbing at the soreness in your wrists switching from one hand to the other.

“Did they touch you, cher?” you look up to find Francis’s violet eyes still staring at the bruises and you tried your best to cover them with your skirt.

“They were close to but they didn’t, thank God.” You sigh and stand up on wobbly legs; Francis reaches out and helps you to balance yourself when he saw how you were about to fall over. It was after that, that you finally look around at the many fallen bodies in the warehouse looking structure.

Your mouth drops at all the carnage and strewn body parts. You were so speechless that you didn’t know whether to scream or run so instead your hands rose to cover your mouth and you shut your eyes tightly in the hopes that this was all some horrible nightmare and that when you open your eyes again you would be at home in the kitchen, preparing breakfast and telling Matt all about your dream while Francis sits in front of him with a cigarette in his mouth and reading his morning paper.

“Oh look cher,” Francis spoke gently against your ear and you could practically feel him smiling. He then nods over to something on your right and you open your eyes to see Misa, beaten, bloody and struggling to get up, “this one is still alive; Mathieu, the crowbar… ”

“Oui Papa,” spoke the young man while he handed his father the rusted metal rod, the edge was saturated with blood.

“Mr. Bonnefoy, please don’t hurt him!” you beg as you now stand in front of your old friend, your arms outstretched between the two of them, “please… I’ve known him for a long time; please don’t hurt him.”

Matt stares from you to his father and back. He knew of a way to get you out from between the other two men so his father could get to the beaten man behind you, but without his dad’s okay to go, he stood by ready to move.

Francis instead closes the gap between you and him, so that he could speak to Misa from over your shoulder, his arm raises and he rests it over the small of your back, your arms slowly lower to your sides and you could feel you cheeks burn with embarrassment at the intimate touch.

“I want you out of the city in an hour, never return. If I do hear that you have returned I will have you killed on sight.” The blond Frenchman threatens as he now removes his jacket to drape it around your shoulders.

You are then led away by Francis who puts an arm around your shoulders and walks you out.  Looking back over your shoulder, you see Misa still on the ground and on all fours, his uninjured hand stretching out for you and as he stares at you helplessly. You then turn to look away from him the moment you all walked outside the structure.

“Mathieu, take (M/RC) home, __________ will drive with me,” Francis spoke gruffly as the cigarette he placed between his lips bounced slightly; he was about to light with his zippo. “Papa?” Matthew asks and looks from you to his father then back, the young man then tilts his head questioningly toward his father.

“Allez-y alors! Petite merde stupide…”

Matthew snorts and gently shakes his head, “Pharisaïque salaud ...” taking M/RC by the hand they begin to trudge off toward Matthew’s truck. “See you at home _________!” (M/RC) smiles and waves at you with her free hand, you watch quietly and wave back at the young couple when you feel a rough tug on your other wrist.

“Ouch!” you wince; your wrists were still a bit sore from being tied down earlier and you find yourself being led to a metallic blue Bugatti Veyron.

“You stupid woman,” he snaps at you while opening the door to the passenger side of the car and thrusts you in.

“What the hell?!” you shout just after he shuts the door. Anger and frustration momentarily blinds you as you watch him walk around the front of the car and enters the driver’s side. He then starts the car and takes off in a rush. That was when the fighting resumes.

“Tell me what put it in your stupid fucking head to get mixed up with _them_.”  “What the hell are you talking about?” “Don’t lie to me __________.”

You were stunned by his attitude; just a moment ago he was caring and kind and now it was as if he flipped a switch and he was back to being his bastard Frenchy self! He made it seem like it was your fault that you got kidnapped and that he had to come down and save you!

“Do you honestly think I had known what Misa had gotten himself into? I haven’t seen him in as little of over ten years! I had lost touch with him after we both graduated high school!” you feel tears building up in your eyes and you shake your head, “How the hell was I supposed to know what he had gotten himself into?”

The tears fall easily down your face and you rest your elbow against the edge of the passenger window while covering your eyes so that Francis couldn’t see you crying, “He was my friend I loved him very much.” You whimper and bite your lips together. You feel the car coming to a stop and then it turns off, “Get out of the car,” you hear him say gruffly. You sniffle and comply thinking that you must have been home until you find yourself at a scenic view point **[12]** , Francis leans with his back against the hood of his car smoking the last bit of his cigarette before he stomps and smashes it out.

“Mr. Bonnefoy?” You ask again, you were confused as to why he brought you here, though you had to admit that it was a beautiful sight, “What are we doing here?”

“Woman you will be the death of me… and just call me Francis, none of this “Mr. Bonnefoy” bullshit, we’re past formalities now.” He rolls his eyes and reaches out to take your hands in his, then his thumbs gently smooth over the red and plum colored bruises on your wrists, “I thought I lost you,” he murmurs without looking into your eyes, his face focused on your wrists, “And it’s much easier for me to be angry more than anything else.” Now you understood. He was worried about you, really and genuinely worried about you! It made you really happy that in his own way Francis honestly cared about you. You then lean against his car next to him when he then releases your wrists. You sit together in quiet silence until you turn your attention toward him.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” You manage a smile, “Francis,”

On his part, Francis snorts dismissively and looks away at the view of the city before him, “It was nothing, besides it would be too much of a bother to try and find another decent maid in this city. Mathieu and I have been spoiled by your cooking.”

You feel a swell of joy in your chest along with tears that trickle down your cheeks. You lean forward to press a small kiss on his prickly cheek before you rest your head against his shoulder; you snuggle in closely, “I’m tired.” You sigh and close your eyes. You feel an arm around your shoulder and he pulls you into his side. He then kisses the top of your head and you could hear him sigh; he sounded a bit tired himself, “Come then cher, let’s get you home and clean you up.”

“Yeah, home,” You smile benignly, “It sounds wonderful.”

…

****EXTENDED ENDING****

"I still can’t believe that you all came for me..." you say as you all met up at Artie’s Bakery the following day, Artie and Kaya were getting ready to make a few custom orders of frybread before the seasonal rush and they were in need of some extra help. At the moment you were all taking a little break.

Well yeah,” Matt starts to say with a smirk, “that's because you’re fuckin' useless when left to your own devices.”

“What?” you ask, your eyes wide with shock as you stare at him.

“And you can't defend yourself.” Added Francis with a sniff, your head turns to look at him at where he was sitting to your left in the booth, he only winks at you.

“And you’re fragile.” Chimes in (M/RC) with a sweet smile, your eyes dart to her as well; your face begins to heat up as one by one the others in the room begin to add their own contributions to the conversation.

“You can't throw a punch,” Kaya says thoughtfully, “Not really anyway, pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

“You’re still sane too,” smiles (A/RC) and places the fingers of one hand over her lips to suppress a giggle, “After all the shit you’ve seen! You’ve really kept it together!”

“Tch, an ant would probably kick your ass,” Snorts Al who stood next to (A/RC) and places an arm around her shoulders.

Artie had walk in from the back room with a tray of tea and tiny cakes, “So sorry dear but it’s all true,” he finishes and places the tray on your table.

You were livid, was that how everyone sees you? Were you a misfit even among misfits? How sad indeed, “…you guys are assholes…” you huff annoyed then you take a sip of the tea in your cup and you steal a cake from the tray.

You feel Francis lean close to you and he whispers into your ear, “Though I couldn’t have you any other way cher, I like you just the way you are.” You feel your face heat up again and you smile while finishing the last bite of cake.

…

**Author's Note:**

>  **Number Bullets**  ( GAH so many! ;A; )
> 
>  **[1]**   _puta_ \- bitch
> 
>  **[2]** [Gelson's](http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?https://www.gelsons.com/)
> 
>  **[3]**   _panocha_  - cunt/pussy/vagina
> 
>  **[4]**   _Pendejo(s)_ \- stupid/dumbass/idiot/moron. (depends on how forceful you use the word)
> 
>  **[5]**  " _Chigue su puta madre, zerrote!" -_ "Go fuck your mother, shithead!" (roughly translated)
> 
>  **[6]** _ese_ \- guy/bro/dude
> 
>  **[7]** _vato_ \- guy/bro/dude (different slang)
> 
>  **[8]** _chera_ \- girl/sweetie
> 
>  **[9]** _vieja_ \- "old lady" the way guys talk about a girlfriend/wife/old flame, _"Yeah she's my old lady."_
> 
>  **[10]** _Pinche_ \- Fuck/Fucking (a swear word)
> 
>  **[11]** _pandilla_ \- gang
> 
>  **[12]** The [view](http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-yyE8P-_4EWs/TX5Z339q8HI/AAAAAAAAA3w/ftWe0YW3RpI/s1600/la+view.jpg) Francis drives the two of you.
> 
>   **French bits:**  
>  _"Allez-y alors! Petite merde stupide…"_ \- Get going then! Stupid little shit...
> 
>  _"Pharisaïque salaud ..."_ \- Self righteous fuck...
> 
>   **Readers:**
> 
> M/RC: Matthew's Reader-Chan  
> A/RC: Alfred's Reader-Chan


End file.
